


The King of Gypsies

by FromAnonymousToZ



Category: Notre-Dame de Paris | The Hunchback of Notre-Dame - All Media Types
Genre: Also I find it funny no one brings up he doesnt have a queen any where in the movie, Claude Frollo thinks he has caught the gypsy king, Clopin is a pain in the ass to the judge, Other, Sort Of, The gypsy king is not easily captured, The gypsy king like taunting people, The main inconsistancy is Phoebus is in the city as part of the gaurd, There are inconsistancies, not cannon, this would happen before cannon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-20 16:17:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14897867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FromAnonymousToZ/pseuds/FromAnonymousToZ
Summary: Clopin has a notorious habit of letting himself be caught only to slip away again like water. Much to the frustration of Judge Claude Frollo.





	The King of Gypsies

**Author's Note:**

> I'm totally rewriting the script at some point with Clopin as both himself and Esmerelda , the only other difference is no one falls in love with him, well they do, but he doesn't return their feelings XD

 [(Here is how our lovely boy looks, art not mine)](https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=2ahUKEwiLtKOU6MnbAhUlxVkKHVoODVoQjRx6BAgBEAQ&url=http%3A%2F%2Fvillainstournament.wikia.com%2Fwiki%2FClopin&psig=AOvVaw3RsxNDzFHHRSzmXEX3C3-k&ust=1528744755018950)  

Clopin Trouillefou a lean man with darker skin than most of the Paris inhabitants, a shade that made him look Persian, or at least middle eastern. He had longish dark hair that went down to his shoulders, he had a smallish well trimmed beard he wore a jester-like costume, which included a fuchsia mask with yellow trimming a golden earing and black gloves. The color scheme of this outfit is violet, fuchsia, and yellow. He also has a small cloak with gold bells on the ends. On his leggings, one leg is dark purple, while the other is bright purple with vertical gold stripes he was an attractive man and knew it. 

He was perched high on a wall in the court of miracles the gypsy kingdom, he was laying on his side, his head propped up on his hand, his other arm hung down holding onto his scythe. (In the book Clopin has a scythe and is willing die for his people, which he does at the end of the book, I'm ignoring that part, but the scythe is damn awesome so I'm keeping it) He looked as though he was going to ask you to draw him like one of your French girls.

Below him the gypsies mulled about their lives some pointing up at the king of the gypsies some gaping in awe as the gypsy king watched his subjects.

The gypsy king was still sitting upon his perch watching the city below him when his younger cousin, now a beautiful young woman, Esmerelda rushed in through one of the gates and called up to him.

"Clopin!" The gypsy king's eyes flicked to his cousin and he smiled disappearing in a cloud of red smoke only to appear on his feet before the stunning picture of beauty that was his cousin. He bowed holding his scythe to his side as he straightened the scythe became a dove in his hand and it fluttered away.

However his cousin had no time for his theatrics already speaking a mile a minuet before the dove had even opened it's grey wings she grabbed his arm and pulled her older cousin close rather violently.

"Judge Claude Frollo has sent his men into the streets to find you, the bounty on your head has been tripled." The smile fell from the king of fools' face before returning fully fledged with an edge of darkness in it and when he spoke humor tinged his voice.

"Well, off into the streets I go to trick the judge yet again." He waved behind him ignoring the shouts and warnings and Esmerelda as she tried to grab his arm to stop him, as he disappeared in a puff of red smoke.

 The grinning gypsy king stood in the streets laughing as the children rushed about to him asking him to regale them with his tales and stories.

Clopin began to humor them bringing out his little puppet and lifting one of the girls to swing her round.  Then the sound of metal boots on stone streets pulled him out of the haze of small children and he pushed them along sending them on their way.

His goal was not to completely evade the guards but to tease them and elude them and frustrate Frollo.

This was his favorite game.

As the soldiers rounded the corner they caught sight of purple cloth ducking around the corner. They ran following the shred of purple which just seemed to elude them, but by the time they were passing around the 5th corner they saw a bit of a foot in purple shoes and the back of a blue purple hat with a  yellow feather ducking around a corner their gaining on him. As he ducks around the corner they look at each other and smirk, that's a dead end.

As they rounded the corner the jester stood facing them a playful grin on his face he had turned to the wall to face band of soldiers.

"Hello gentlemen."  He gave them a charming smile and waved, his other hand behind his back.

 "Halt gypsy king!" One called causing a feigned troubled look to cross the gypsy's face.

"Ah, but monsieur I am not running." He bows, with a flourish of his free hand, the other remains behind his back.

"I am at your service." The gypsy said as he straightened.

"Show us both your hands." The same foolish yet brave soldier said, holding his spear, the party of silver clad warriors knew the tales of the gypsy king and those who crossed him. They had seen the corpses of those who pushed his subjects to far, and as the solider spoke his hands shook in the slightest.

"This hand?" He waves the free hand. "Or this one." The moment of suspense left the soldiers gulping and sweating in their metal armor that really was much to hot for a Paris summer.

It was a bit of a let down to see the jester's smaller puppet that looked to be a replication of him. 

"Honestly," The gypsy's mouth hardly moved as the high falsetto played the part of the puppet who bounced as it 'talked' "They look scared to be in your presence."

"My presence? You silly, silly puppet! I am but a lowly gypsy, vermin to these fine soldiers." The gypsy pretended to relook over the soldiers. Observing the fear barely hidden by silver armor "But perhaps you are right. They do seem a bit jittery."

"They do?" The puppet said.

"They're shaking in their boots."

"They are?" It echoed

"You can see them sweating and shifting their grips on their spears."

"You can?" The puppet repeated again but got a slap on wrist, or a whack on the head in this case.

"Hush you." The jester scolded his puppet, he turned back to the men. "And yet I tell you, they fear me to much to dare cross blades with me."

"Blades?" The formerly brave soldier said his voice quaked a bit.

"Ah yes surely you knew?" With a flourish of his hands and cloth, it was no longer a puppet on one hand, but the handle of a scythe held in both hands. With that if only the soldiers hadn't been frozen in fear they all likely would have fled. But they needn't have worry, the jester threw the scythe into the air, it spun in the air, mystified and terrified their eyes were glued to it as the gypsy king withdrew his red cloak draping it over his shoulders not fastening it but letting it hang loosely over his shoulders though it fell slightly off of his left shoulder but it would serve its purpose. 

They watched as it still spinning reached the top of its arc and fell, they saw the gypsy's one hand held out above him grab it, as soon as his fingers wrapped around it their eyes fell back on the gypsy.

And with that the gypsy bowed slightly, not completely dipping just enough to let them know it was a mockery of a bow.

"Gooday gentlemen." The cloak was flourished and the man seemed to disappear in it, leaving a tattered red cloak on the stone ground.

Clomping hoof beats rounded the corner and the captain Phoebus mounted on his horse. 

"Sir, the gypsy got away he disappeared into thin air." as the soldier spoke Judge Claude Frollo rode up on his horse behind the captain.

"You let a gypsy get away?" Frollo was in a rage.

"I-it was the king of gypsies." Frollo scowled.

 "Captain, this gypsy, the gypsy king has been eluding my soldiers for years, from now on I am assigning hunting him to you, it is your main priority, because if we find the king, we find the colony."

~*~

It had been weeks since Phoebus had received that order, and since then he had only caught glimpses of the gypsy king though the man didn't seem to be hiding at all. His men had seen the gypsy king in his caravan or with children, dancing or singing in the streets, but the captain had only seen bits of purple and maroon ducking around corners and the tail end of a yellow feather. 

He always seemed to show up to late, just as the gypsy went around the corner or pulled one of his disappearing tricks. However today, today the gypsy walked the streets guiding a small child who gripped his hand as they looked for her mother. They did eventually find the woman who pulled her child away from the 'wicked' gypsy. 

Clopin did not appear offended simply smiled and waved at the child after tucking a yellow feather in her hand and  turned to stroll down the street whistling a light tune, Phoebus followed, his cloak drawn up over his armor. He made sure to keep the gypsy in view the captain began to realize that they were getting further and further away from people, perhaps they were going to find the court of miracles. Now that would be a miracle.

But as soon as it was only the two figures, one dressed in bright purples followed by one dressed in drab browns the gypsy sped up and managed to turn a corner before the captain could follow him, so he sped up his pace but as he rounded the corner he got a fist to the face.

Clopin was a wiry lean male and a punch from him was probably going to sting, Phoebus didn't expect to nearly go down with a well placed punch to the jaw. The punch stunned him and he was unable to process how he went from following this gypsy to having his arms held behind his back with one hand, the other of the gypsy's hand held a knife against his throat.

"Now, now could it be the captain of the guard has come chasing little old me?" Though the words were teasing the tone was dark and accented by the knife that bit into his neck, Phoebus winced.

"For the king of fools you certainly don't fool about." Phoebus tried not move his throat to much.

"A fools death or a fools decision, you can choose but leave the jests to me." The jester's voice was sharp.

"I see, where's the scythe I always hear so much about."

"I left it in the court of miracles." The gypsy said his voice still a warning.

"So its just you, me and a knife?" The gypsy's silence told him all there was to know as he flipped it so that he was holding his sword at the gypsy's throat. 

"Your just a clever little-" Phoebus tied the gypsy's hands together forcing the dagger out of them. The captain then threw the gypsy man over his shoulder, he was rather light, though, heavier than expected, he was all muscle, little fat.

Carrying a man known by the whole city, loved by some and despised by others was bound to cause controversy. He pulled his cloak up over his head and began walking into the streets, he followed the familiar steps to the cathedral. 

The man over his shoulder certainly did not make it easy. Struggling and cursing him out. The writing body was rather hard to keep a hold of. The gypsy was strong, and Phoebus was wishing he had a gag, because the gypsy when he could not use his body was all mouth and his sharp tongue knew how to make the man falter.

Before he even made it in the doors judge Claude Frollo was outside.

"Ah captain I see you have caught the gypsy king."

The captain shifted the gypsy from his shoulder and set him on his feet keeping his hand on his sword.

 "Ah Judge Claude Frollo, I see you're still hunting my people." The venom in Clopin's voice could have eaten into stone. 

~*~

The next time the captain saw the gypsy he was painfully thin, wearing no shirt and ragged brown pants. He was bleeding from wounds that were clearly from whips and knives, all on his back on his chest, nothing that could be seen if he was dressed.

Nothing to give away the true cruelty of the judge if he were to escape because the gypsy wouldn't be caught dead without a shirt on, too many unsavory people about who would take advantage of a wounded gypsy especially one as attractive as the gypsy king.

When the captain saw him his hands were shackled behind him to the wall. His head was leaned back against the wall his eyes closed tightly and his teeth clenched, his long black hair was ratted up and dirty matted with blood.

The gypsy looked pained, yet he did not weep and he did not bend to Frollo's demands and remained silent.

But the judge thought a rope around his neck would loosen his tongue. Now the captain saw him dressed in his own clothes once again, loose fitting as they were they suited the man more than the prisoner's garb, but the rope around his neck seemed out of place. His hands were tied behind his back.

"Clopin Trouillefou you are accused of witchcraft, resisting arrest, withholding the location of the Court of Miracles and treachery you are to be hung for your crimes. Unless you give us the location of the Court of Miracles and repent." Frollo grinned looking like he had finally won.

"Gypsies don't do well inside stone walls. You have said it yourself, and yet you give me a taste of the sun, and for that a fool you are, a bigger fool than I." The sound of ropes snapping filled the air as the gypsy king sawed through his bonds, revealing a knife in his hands, from where he got it to this day no one knows. The knife became his scythe and slashed through the rope above him before leaping into the crowd running through the bodies that did not resist and did not try to stop him, they lost him in the crowd.

A single yellow feather lay on the ground when the crowd cleared.

The war raged on between the gypsy king and the corrupt judge. 

The gypsy king would not give up, not with a knife at his back and a rope around his neck, the gypsy king would not bend, he loved his people and would defend them with his life.

The captain would not see the gypsy again until the man was better, walking among the streets, and he would not see him till the day he had a knife at his throat that cut rather deep.

"Leave my people alone, or I will cut deeper next time."

And off the gypsy king sauntered into Paris and his kingdom. 


End file.
